Days Gone Bye
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: How safe were they ever really? A crossover story with Burn Notice!
1. Chapter 1

Well, here it is! My first multi-chapter story! I'm very excited about this, because it seems that no one has done a crossover between Walking Dead and Burn Notice! I know it seems unlikely, but that's what fanfiction is for, right? So read on and enjoy the first chapter of Days Gone Bye!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

* * *

It all began quietly enough. A weird news report here, a random attack there. It wasn't until Michael Westen witnessed one of those attacks firsthand that he knew something was terribly wrong. And by then, it was too late. He barely managed to escape Miami with his mother, his girlfriend, his best friend, and a young spy he had managed to burn nearly two years prior.

They were just out of the city when the bombs began to fall. None of them wanted to believe what was happening, but it was happening and they were powerless to stop it. Unlike everything else they had come up against in the past, this couldn't be defeated so easily, if at all.

Now, as they drove over the Florida-Georgia line in his Charger, Michael took a moment to look at Fiona. She was in the passenger seat, tensed up but with her slim hand resting on his leg. His mom was in the backseat, and close behind them, Sam and Jesse were driving Fiona's beloved car. They had packed as much supplies as they possibly could in the limited amount they had. If it hadn't been so terrifying, Michael might have laughed. He was packing guns and food, and Fiona was packing her C-4, pictures, shoes and snow globes. But did he expect any less from her, even as they faced the possible end of the world as they knew it?

As they entered Georgia, Fiona looked at Michael, her mouth drawn and her normally fiery eyes brimming with fear.

"What the hell is happening, Michael?"

From the backseat, Madeline let out a soft groan.

Michael locked eyes with the woman he loved more than life itself.

"I don't know, Fi. But we're going to be okay. I swear."

* * *

"Where are you, Daryl?"

Carol looked out through the chain link fence, her stomach in knots as it had been since she'd last seen Daryl. Not even a full day had passed since he had discovered her where she had collapsed in a dark closet after witnessing T-Dog sacrifice himself for her, and she felt herself shiver. The look on his face had been indescribable as he slid his arms underneath her legs and held her to his chest like she was made of the most fragile porcelain. She had let her head rest against his broad chest as he carried her with ease back to their area of the prison.

Now she was already back on her feet, despite Hershel's cautions to take it easy. She wouldn't be able to truly relax until Daryl came sauntering up to the gate and she could lay eyes on him and know he was safe.

Her fingers went through the chain link fence, and she could almost hear Daryl's voice cussing at her, telling her how stupid the move was. If he was there right then, he would have swatted at her hands and given her that glare she was so familiar with.

A tear slid down her cheek, quickly followed by another as she pulled her hands away from the fence and let them fall to her side. She would have given anything to hear his voice again, to be able to have him standing there beside her with that constant scowl hiding his true feelings away from this cruel new world.

The sound of crunching leaves and twigs brought her out of her thoughts. Her slim hand automatically went to the knife at her side, the one Daryl had given her some months ago. Michone was up in the guard tower, and Glenn and Rick were undoubtedly patrolling the prison grounds. If a walker was approaching, she could dispatch of it quickly, no doubt.

Her eyes squinted as two figures slowly emerged from the brush. One staggered awkwardly while dragging its companion in a painfully slow manner.

Walkers didn't drag other…

She was running to the gate before her brain fully comprehended what she was doing. "Rick, Glenn!" Her voice, still hoarse from disuse, carried well enough because she could hear Rick shout to Glenn and Glenn yell his response. Her hand sheathed her knife as she tore toward the gate. The figures were closer, and she could make out Merle Dixon's face. That meant Daryl was…

A surge of bile crept up on her throat as she skidded to a stop in front of the gate. Glenn and Rick were close behind her as she unlocked the gate and flung it open long enough for Merle to drag Daryl through. Once they were safely inside, Carol quickly locked the gate again before she spun around and charged toward Merle and Daryl.

The older Dixon, clearly exhausted, dropped his brother to the ground and wiped the sweat off his brow.

"What happened?" Rick demanded. Glenn, obviously not having forgotten his encounter with Merle, pulled out his own weapon and took aim.

There was a commotion at the entrance to the prison as Maggie and Beth flew out to see what was happening. Hershel hobbled out behind them, followed by Carl who was carrying his newborn sister.

Casting a dirty look at Merle, Carol crouched down beside Daryl and gasped as she was faced with countless cuts and bruises. Daryl's face was pale and drawn as well as bruised. Someone had beaten the hell out of him, or worse. Muttering softly to him, Carol began checking his visible skin for any bite marks or scratches.

_Please, God, don't let him be bit_…

"What happened?" Rick repeated roughly, staring down Merle.

"Damn Governor," Merle finally muttered. "Made us fight, then let a bunch of damn walkers loose on us."

"He can't stay," Glenn hissed, keeping his gun trained on Merle.

Rick held up a hand, silencing Glenn. "Were you followed?"

A cold smirk appeared on Merle's face. "I burned the fuckin' town down. No one left to follow."

Carol didn't know whether to be sick or glad. No one would be tracking them down to kill them. Carl and Judith were safe. Her eyes strayed over Daryl's bruised face. Daryl was safe.

"I don't care what he did. He let a walker loose on me! His boss almost raped Maggie! Rick, he can't stay."

"Glenn, calm down." Rick looked down at Daryl's unconscious body. "We can lock him up with Axel. We'll take away that knife and any other weapons he has."

That seemed to mollify Glenn, but Merle sulked.

"We have to get Daryl inside," Carol declared, startling the three men standing over her. "Hershel needs to look him over."

Merle knelt down awkwardly and slid his hand underneath his younger brother. "I'll get him."

"No," Rick said firmly. "I'll take him inside. You take off that knife before you even think about coming in with us."

With a swear, Merle removed the knife, leaving his stump exposed. "There. Can I go in now? Pretty please?"

"Follow Glenn."

Glenn narrowed his eyes but reluctantly showed Merle into the prison. Once they were gone, Rick dropped down beside Carol and eased his hands under Daryl.

"Be careful with him." The words flew out of Carol's mouth before she could stop them.

Rick just smiled. "Don't worry, Carol. I will." He eased back to a standing position, pulling Daryl's unconscious body with him.

Carol walked alongside Rick and Daryl. Halfway up to the prison's entrance, Daryl stirred and began muttering incoherently. Carol reached out and gently touched his bicep, the only part of him that didn't seem to be too terribly bruised.

"Everything is going to be okay now, Daryl. You're safe."

But how safe were they ever really?

To Be Continued...

A/N: Ooh, go Carol! I like how badass she's gotten this season (Daryl must be rubbing off on her) and I love hurt/comfort, so there will be tons of that. Burn Notice and Walking Dead are both epic shows, and I cannot wait to show the different interactions between these awesome characters. Thanks so much for reading, and please review!


	2. Amen

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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How long had they been running?

Michael grunted as he shoved his knife into the skull of a shambling, rotted walker. The Georgia heat was intolerable, and it was much muggier than the Florida heat they had all become accustomed to. The thing was down on the ground in a matter of seconds. Planting his foot in the middle of the rotted chest, he yanked his knife out of the walker's skull and wiped the congealed blood away.

"Michael!"

Fiona's frightened voice had Michael spinning around and running back to the clearing where he had left her with Sam. At least nine months had passed since their escape from Miami. Since then, they had been moving from place to place. Two or three months ago, they had happened upon an abandoned R.V. in relatively good condition with one full sized bed, a couch, and two hide-a-beds. It was a godsend to the small group, especially with Fiona's condition. It was somewhere safe to sleep, and with plenty of cars on the side of the highway to siphon fuel from, one person could drive at all times if the area was too thick with walkers. Michael did not like being constantly on the move, but he would do whatever it took to keep Fiona safe.

He emerged through the brush and ran toward Fiona. Sam was standing in front of her and Madeline, one hand extended protectively as Jesse fought with a particularly vicious walker.

Sneaking up behind the walker, Michael drove his knife through the base of the corpse's skull. It fell to the ground, and Fiona ducked around Sam and ran into Michael's arms, sobbing. "Are you okay?" he demanded as he held her tight against his chest.

"I'm fine," she whimpered.

His hand came up and stroked her hair as he met Sam's eyes. Sam and his mom were fine, but there was something definitely wrong. Then he saw Jesse.

A vicious bite mark bled profusely from the younger man's upper arm. Michael swore. They had all seen what happened to those who had been bitten or scratched. No one survived it.

Silently Sam retrieved a dirty towel and tied it above the bite mark. Then he turned to Michael and Fiona. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he said, "I thought I saw something through the trees." He waved his hand toward the area he spoke of. "Might be a place we can hole up."

Michael looked down at Fiona, who was still buried in his arms. A place where they could settle down and be safe had become more and more of a pipe dream, but he had to hope. They could not keep running like this, especially now. His hand slid down to Fiona's swollen belly. By Fiona's estimation, she was at least thirty-seven weeks along. He still cursed himself for being so thoughtless. Before all of this, he had not wanted children because of the danger presented by past and present enemies. When the shit really hit the fan, he lost any desire to bring a child into this mess. Still, things happened, and Fiona had wound up pregnant. Now they were running out of time to find a suitable place to stay while Fiona prepared to give birth. The last thing he wanted was for her to give birth on the road, but unless they found a safe location, he did not see many other options.

He swallowed hard. Now Jesse was bit. They had managed to stay safe during the past nine months, but now this…? Gently untangling himself from his woman, Michael stepped closer to Sam and pushed his damp hair back.

"Show me, Sam."

* * *

Once they were back inside of the prison, Carol directed Rick to her cell without a second thought. Daryl was limp and nearly lifeless as Rick rolled him onto the thin mattress of Carol's bunk.

"Get Hershel," Carol said insistently as she leaned over and gently unbuttoned Daryl's shirt. He was unconscious and did not move as she removed his shirt and tried not to gasp at the numerous injuries overlaying old scars. Moving lower, she unlaced his boots and removed them, dropping them to the floor. Then she pulled a thin sheet over his body to preserve his dignity.

A few minutes later, she heard Hershel shuffling toward the cell, accompanied by one of his daughters (she assumed it was Beth, since Maggie was guarding the fence with Glenn). "He's unconscious," Carol informed the older man as he entered the cell.

"Carol, why don't you step out for a minute while I examine him?" Hershel suggested gently.

Carol opened her mouth to argue, but then she saw Hershel open a case with evil looking instruments tucked into it. Toeing the floor, she finally nodded. "Call me if…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly. If what? If he got any worse? If he called for her? If he…died?

Hershel seemed to understand her unspoken request. "I will," he assured her.

Running a trembling hand through her short hair, Carol allowed her eyes to linger on Daryl briefly. Then she turned and left the cell, her stomach firmly in knots as she searched for a secluded corner in which to hide away in, at least until Hershel came to her with news about Daryl.

Finding a spot, Carol sat down and buried her face in her knees. When this had all started, she had been a wife, a mother. Her husband was not a good man, but she could not regret him because he had given her the most beautiful gift. Their daughter, Sophia. And when Ed was killed that night after the fish fry, Carol had seen it as a fresh start for her daughter and herself. Then there was the herd, and her poor, poor baby… Daryl had spent every waking moment looking for her, even at the expense of his own health. He had been the most devastated when Sophia shuffled out of Hershel's barn, snarling and sporting a devastating wound on her neck and shoulder where her flesh had been ripped away. Daryl had been the one to hold her back, and he had been the one to comfort her in his own awkward way while everyone else avoided her.

She sniffled and rubbed her face against the rough material of her pants. If she lost Daryl, then she would truly have nothing left to live for. She could not lose him, too. She just could not.

"…amen."

* * *

Jesse panted as the group trudged onward, in the direction of the building Sam thought he saw. The pain in his arm was steadily worsening, and he was beginning to feel feverish. He was a lost cause, he knew, but some small part of him could not accept it. He did not want to die. He did not want to leave Fiona alone, even though she had Michael and Sam to protect her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sam watching him worriedly, and the occasional muted stare from Michael. Sweat poured down the back of his neck, and his stomach twisted and threatened to expel its contents at any moment. He was not going to make it and he knew it.

A moment later, they emerged through more trees. Sam shouted in excitement at the building before them. "I knew I saw something!"

"It's a prison," Jesse muttered.

Michael looked as excited as Sam did. "But it's somewhere we can hole up, at least for the next few weeks." His gaze rested pointedly on Fiona's belly.

"What if those things are in there?"

Michael turned to look at Sam and Jesse, his expression deadly.

"Then we'll take care of it."

There was no misunderstanding his intentions.

* * *

After crying until she could not cry anymore, Carol cleaned herself up and headed to the area of the prison Rick had designated for intruders. She knew of the small group already there: two men, a woman and a teenage boy. Carl had let them in and saved them from a few walkers that had missed Rick's rampage after Lori's death.

Glenn was just coming out of the area as Carol entered it. "Carol, what are you doing?" His voice was tired and slightly slurred.

Carol tried not to flinch at the numerous bruises on his face. "I'm going to see Merle."

"Why?" The young man was filled with disbelief.

"Because I need to." She stepped around Glenn and approached the cell where Merle had been locked up.

Hearing her approach, Merle raised his head wearily. "Whaddya want?"

"I want to know what happened, Merle."

He looked her over with a look in his eyes that made her uncomfortable. "What?"

"To Daryl. What happened to Daryl?" she clarified, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. If Merle had done anything to harm Daryl, she would feed him to the walkers personally. In the past ten months, she had grown closer to Daryl than she probably should have. However, after her daughter's death, she had been left completely alone, and she had connected with the only person who seemed to understand that pain and loneliness.

Daryl.

She had really grown as a person after her husband's stifling and overwhelming presence was gone. Now she was staring down a dangerous man with no regard for her personal safety. All she wanted was answers. She needed to know what had happened to Daryl, and who was responsible for his injuries. She had spent most of her adulthood with no control. Now she had it and she was not about to let it go, not even for a second.

She could have sworn Merle's eyes softened fractionally, but it could have been a trick of the poor lighting in the prison. "We was forced to fight. The Governor, crazy asshole, put us in a ring an' got the crowd all blood thirsty."

Carol was barely able to conceal her rage. "Then?"

"We had to fight. But 'fore things got too bad, I's able to cause a ruckus an' get my brother out of there. I started a fuckin' fire before I dragged his ass out."

The feeling that he had left out a huge part of the story nagged at her, but she nodded stiffly, seemingly satisfied with his story so far.

"He tol' me where this place was. Took us hours to get back here, and look where I end up." He grabbed the bars and gave them a violent shake. "In a fuckin' cage!"

"Get used to it," Carol said coldly. "Until you prove yourself, you're not coming out." Spinning around, she proceeded to leave Merle alone in his cell.

"He called for ya!"

Her heart skipped a beat at the roughneck's words. Slowly, oh so slowly, she turned around until their eyes met again. "What?"

"When I was draggin' his sorry ass through the woods. He was outta it, but he kep' callin' your name. 'Carol, Carol'. He's turnin' into a pussy. Thought I taught him better 'n that." Merle sneered, his fingers curling around the bars again.

Enough was enough. Carol strolled up to the cell with purpose, her eyes alight with anger. "Don't you dare talk about him that way," she snarled, her slender form trembling. "You don't even know him!"

"He's my flesh and blood," Merle countered. "An' as soon as we can, we're gittin' the hell outta here."

"Go to hell." Shaking, Carol left the area and headed back to the cellblock she shared with the rest of the group. Tears gathered in her eyes and threatened to spill, but she would not let them. She knew Daryl loved his brother, and the chance he would go with Merle and leave the group was not small. He knew the group needed him, or at least she thought he knew. He was a vital part of them, and well respected. However, the pull of blood was almost impossible to fight.

Swiping at her eyes, Carol let out a shuddering breath. She could not watch him go, not with knowing how she felt about him. He had become a part of her, just as Sophia had been and still was.

A scream from one of the cells cut through her thoughts. Her legs began moving before she was able to process what had happened. The scream belonged to Daryl, and it chilled her to the bone.

She skidded to a stop outside of her cell, and faintly she could hear Rick shouting. Glenn was already there, looking sick as he held Maggie tight. Without hesitation, Carol pushed past them and into her cell, where she could see Hershel struggling to hold Daryl down as Daryl weakly fought against the older man.

"What are you doing?" she half-screeched, half-whispered.

"Get out of here, Carol! Send Rick in!"

She could clearly see the fear in Daryl's features. His eyes were half-open and filled with distress. Without a thought for her own safety and well-being, Carol moved around Hershel and gently pushed him aside. Then she draped her arm across Daryl's heaving chest.

"Carol, he's dangerous-"

"Let me handle him!" Shaking her head, she leaned down close enough to whisper into Daryl's ear. She would never repeat what she said, but her words had the desired effect on Daryl. Slowly his struggling subsided, but his chest continued to heave as he gasped for air.

Hershel looked relieved as he lifted Daryl's shirt again and examined the knife wound in the young man's side. "He was stabbed," he announced grimly. "It's pretty deep, but it doesn't look like any organs were hit."

Carol stifled a groan moments before a powerful surge of anger hit her. It had to have been Merle. He had stabbed his own brother…

Daryl seemed to sense her upset and he began struggling again. "Carol," he grunted, panting.

"Daryl, I'm right here," she reassured him. "Everything is going to be okay." She spoke with more strength and conviction than she felt.

His hand trembled as he reached up and grabbed her arm.

"Yeah, I'm here," she murmured. Taking a chance, she brushed his damp hair away from his forehead with her free hand.

"I have to stitch this up." Hershel's voice was quiet but commanded her attention.

She understood what he was not saying. They had antibiotics, albeit a very small amount, and there were no painkillers left. Daryl was tough as hell, but every man had his limits. "Daryl? Daryl, can you hear me?"

"Hurt, not deaf," he managed to grumble. Nevertheless, his grip on her arm remained tight.

"Good." Her fingers feathered through his tangled hair. "Hershel has to close up the knife wound in your side, but we don't have anything to knock you out."

"Jus' do it."

"Are you sure, son? Maybe we should wait and get Rick in here to hold you down."

"Don' need 'im."

"Do it," Carol told Hershel, her chin trembling slightly.

"If he moves the wrong way…"

"I won't let him," she insisted with finality.

He seemed like he wanted to argue with her, but thankfully he did not. He simply began cleaning the blood away and examining the wound.

Turning away from the sight, Carol focused on Daryl, whose eyes had slipped closed. Bloody and bruised, he was a sight. However, he was alive and safe with them, with her, and that was more than Carol could have asked for.

When Hershel's needle pierced his skin, Daryl groaned and tensed. But to his credit, he did not move.

For once, his walls were down, and Carol was happy to see another side of this man, albeit she wished it could be under better circumstances. He was always so strong, so tough and infuriatingly hard to get close to. But she knew he was worth it. For all the cruel words and angry expressions, for all the pain and the tears she had shed over him, he was worth it. He was worth it a thousand times over.

Hershel worked quickly, but not quickly enough for Carol. Each time the needle went in, Daryl flinched, and Carol's heart broke a little more for him. Her fingers moved slowly through his sweat-slicked hair in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. "Just a little more," she murmured. But her arm remained firmly in place, just in case he tried to move again. She would not be able to overpower him if he was at full-strength, but as it stood, she was fairly certain she could hold him down. But the thought made her sad. She did not want to be able to hold him down like this. She wanted him whole and uninjured, walking around and snapping at everyone who dared to look at him. She wanted him to be himself, even if the mother hen part of her was somewhat happy to be capable of holding him this way, so close to herself.

"Done," Hershel finally announced, wiping his bloody hands against his pants.

Carol looked down at Daryl, belatedly realizing he had passed out underneath her arm. Slowly, almost cautiously, she started to withdraw her arm.

As her arm moved, Daryl shifted and grunted. His hand tightened on her arm, refusing to let her go even in his sleep.

Both Hershel and Carol saw this. Hershel cleared his throat softly and awkwardly stood. "He shouldn't move for at least a couple of days," he murmured. "He'll risk reopening the wound if he tries to do too much too soon."

Carol nodded as her mind drifted to another time when he had been injured. She had kissed his temple and told him he was every bit as good and worthy as Shane and Rick, perhaps even more so. To her, he was better than Rick or Shane. He was a man of honor, a man of worth and value. He had put his life on the line to bring her little girl home, and when he had not been able to, he had almost fallen apart. Carol had almost expected him to leave the group after Sophia's death, but as always, he had surprised her. Now she found herself hoping he would surprise her again and not leave with his brother.

"Call for me if he needs anything."

"I will."

Hershel limped out of the cell, leaving Carol alone with her wounded friend.

A few minutes after he was gone, Carol sighed and shifted, delicately perching herself on the edge of the cot. Daryl seemed to appreciate the closeness, because he let out a soft sigh and relaxed his grip on her arm, as though he was certain she would not leave him.

She smiled.

"As if I would ever leave you…"

* * *

"How is he?" Rick asked Glenn as Glenn emerged from the confines of the prison.

"Hershel thinks he'll be okay. The knife wound was pretty bad, but Hershel was able to close it up. Now he just has to watch out for an infection." Glenn swiped his hand over his forehead, wincing as he accidently brushed his hand over a bruise.

"Good." Rick turned toward the gate and did another scan of their surroundings. It was exhausting, keeping such a cautious watch. But now with the baby and Daryl being injured, he could not take any kind of chances with the welfare of his group. He looked to the tower where Michonne was also keeping watch.

"Daryl's gonna go with Merle," Glenn said quietly.

Rick shook his head. "I don't think he will." He hoped not, anyway. Rick had come to respect the redneck as an equal as well as his second in command.

"But-"

"Walkers!"

Michonne's voice chilled both Rick and Glenn. Immediately they went for their weapons and raced toward the gate. Through the thick brush, Rick could make out three or four figures moving slowly but with purpose.

Glenn raised his gun, despite Rick's insistence they all use knives and crossbows in lieu of bullets. Bullets were loud and attracted even more walkers. Blunt force was riskier but drew less attention.

Rick made it to the fence first, his hand clutching a large machete. He prepared to hit the fence and draw the walkers close enough to run his blade through the fence and into the skulls of the walkers. Then something caught his attention, and his stomach dropped as he shouted to Glenn and Michonne.

"Stop!"

To Be Continued...

A/N: Hope everyone is enjoying this! Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Broken Together

Update time! Major character death in this chapter. And of course, welcome to all my Burn Notice readers I attracted with my shameless self promoting. LOL. Read on and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"Stop!"

On instinct, Michael touched Fiona's arm lightly as he stepped in front of her. The last thing they had been expecting was to hear voices coming from inside the prison. His sharp eyes scanned the fence until he finally spotted a man pressed up against the chain link fence.

"Holy shit," Sam muttered.

They did not have time to marvel at the fact someone else had lived and was currently gawking at them through the fence. The low and menacing growls of nearby walkers sent them toward the fence.

"Let us in!" Michael shouted, his hand grasping Fiona's elbow tightly as he pulled her with him. She was exhausted, but they were so close…

It never occurred to him the man on the other side would not let them in.

* * *

Rick swore as the small group of three men and two women headed toward the fence. Every part of him screamed to turn them away, but then he saw the younger woman's obviously swollen stomach, and he knew he could not be so cruel as to let a baby die. Not when he could help it.

"Glenn, Michonne, cover me!" he shouted as he raced down to the gate. He quickly removed the lock and flung it open, allowing the group to race into the prison yard moments before seven or eight walkers appeared from the forest. Rick quickly slammed the gate shut and locked it again.

"Thank you," one of the men said breathlessly. He was holding tight to the pregnant woman, so Rick assumed they were married. There was an older woman and man, and a younger man who looked worryingly pale.

"Who are you?" Rick demanded as Glenn came up behind him, knife in hand.

"I'm Michael Westen. This is my wife, Fiona." Michael motioned to each member of the group as he introduced them. "This is Sam Axe, my mother Madeline Westen, and Jesse Porter."

Rick let his eyes rest briefly on Fiona's stomach. There was no mistaking it now; she was pregnant, and by the looks of it, ready to deliver at any time.

"We're grateful you let us in," Michael continued as Fiona leaned into him and closed her eyes. "We saw this place and we were hoping… Well, we've been on the move ever since all of this went down-"

"Me and my group cleared this place out."

Michael seemed to sense where this was going. "We can pull our own weight. We just cannot keep running. Not with those things out there."

"Mr. Westen-"

"Michael. Just Michael."

"Michael, I know things are bad out there. And we'll kill the ones around the fence. But…"

A familiar voice spoke up from behind Rick and Glenn. "You can't turn them away."

Rick turned to look at the young redheaded woman.

Maggie reached out and touched Glenn's arm affectionately, then surveyed the group. "How far along are you?" she asked Fiona.

"Not sure," Fiona responded quietly. "Thirty-seven weeks or so."

"Rick, she can't leave here."

"I know," Rick muttered.

"We can help them clear out another cell block. I don't feel right putting them with Merle or the others."

Maggie was really coming into her own. Rick smiled with affection at the fiery girl. They were taking a risk, but Hershel had taken a risk by allowing them to stay on his farm after Lori announced her pregnancy.

A cry from inside the prison caught Rick's attention. Judith. Motioning to the group, he said, "Follow me."

Obviously relieved, Michael kissed Fiona's forehead and kept her close as they began walking toward the prison.

Maggie and Glenn walked ahead with Rick. "I'll get…" She trailed off, seemingly in thought.

As if he could read her mind, Glenn nodded. "I'll help you. Carol and Hershel say they need to stay close to Daryl."

"Maggie, I need you to stay out here with Michonne. Glenn and I will clear out one of the blocks," Rick said firmly.

She started to argue, but Glenn gave her a pointed look and she fell silent as they continued their walk back to the prison.

Once they were inside, Rick glanced around. There was a cell at the end of the block where the group could stay until he and Glenn cleaned out a block for them. It was far enough from the rest of his group, but close enough for Hershel to keep an eye on Fiona and her baby. It might have been the end of the world, but he had not become so cold as to refuse to help a pregnant woman.

Michael and his group looked around the prison.

"It's not much, but I don't feel right turning a pregnant woman away." Rick led them down to the last cell on the left. "I'm sorry, but I can't have you all wandering around."

Michael looked reluctant, but he ushered Fi and Madeline into one cell, while Rick sent the other two men into the cell beside it. "One of our men, Hershel, has a medical background. I'll send him in here to check you out, if that's okay with you." He closed the cell doors and locked them.

"Thank you," Fiona called softly.

"You're welcome." Satisfied he had done everything he could to help them, he turned and walked back down to his own cell.

Beth was there with Judith, shushing her and patting her back. She looked up and smiled when she realized she was being watched. "Hi, Rick."

"How is she?"

"She's fine." Beth stood up and offered the newborn to her father.

Rick slid his hand under the baby girl and drew her against his chest. She let out a sigh and snuggled into him, seemingly content.

Satisfied, Beth leaned against the wall. "I heard a commotion."

"New people. Five of them. They had a pregnant woman with them."

The teenager's eyes widened. "And you let them in?"

"Yeah. I have to talk to your dad." He handed Judith back to Beth. "Thanks for watching her."

"No problem…"

Backing out of the cell, Rick made his way down to Carol's cell. Hershel was standing just outside of it, looking concerned. But that was nothing new. "Daryl. How's he doing?"

"He'll be fine as long as he stays put for a few days."

Rick did not like the sound of that. If there was anyone in the group who detested staying still, it was Daryl. The boy was in a constant state of movement. Peering around Hershel, Rick was surprised to see Carol sitting on the edge of the mattress where Daryl was lying. Her arm was draped over his chest, and though he was sleeping, his fingers were curled almost possessively around her arm.

Not wanting to disturb them, Rick backed away from the entrance to the cell. It was an unexpected sight, but not an unwelcome one. He smiled and turned.

He had work to do.

* * *

Once they were alone in their cell, Michael pulled Fiona into his arms and held her tight. "How do you feel?" he murmured into her hair. "Are you okay?"

Her arms wrapped around his waist. "I'm fine."

"The baby?"

"He's fine."

A sigh of relief escaped Michael's mouth. As much as he cared about the rest of their little group, Fiona and their baby were his entire world. He needed them more than anything, and he would do anything to protect them.

Anything.

* * *

It took less than two hours for Rick and Glenn to clear out the chosen cellblock. Once it was cleared and safe, Rick led the new group to it.

As they walked, something caught his attention. The youngest of the men was pale, and for the first time, Rick noticed his bloodied arm. Suddenly he felt sick. Coming to a sudden stop, he spun around, aiming his gun at the man's head.

"No!" Fiona shrieked. She tried to charge forward, but Michael caught her around the waist and stopped her.

"You're bit," Rick accused.

"I'm okay," Jesse insisted. "I'm fine, really."

"You can't stay in here. I cannot risk you infecting one of my people!" Rick continued to hold the gun to Jesse's head.

"You can't send him out there!" Sam's voice trembled as he spoke. "You'll kill him!"

"He's already dead."

Madeline made her way over to Michael and Fiona. Her hand rested lightly on Fiona's side.

"Isn't there something we can do?" Michael tried to reason. "Can't we lock him in a cell?"

"And do what? Watch him turn into a walker? You all had to have seen what these bites do. You know there's no escape. It's better to end it now than watch him suffer until he turns."

Before anyone could react, Jesse took the decision out of their hands. He grabbed a gun from the small of his back, held it to his temple and pulled the trigger. His body fell to the floor and the gun skittered across the concrete.

Fiona stared at his body, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. "Jesse, no…"

Michael quickly turned her away and pulled her head against his chest.

Tucking his gun away, Rick looked at the remaining members of the group. "I'm sorry, but he wouldn't have survived the bite. No one does."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but he remained stoically silent.

Rick sized Fiona up. "We have some maternity clothes, if you need them." He was tempted to bring them canned food and whatever his group could afford to spare, but once again his heart was pulled at by this pregnant woman and the still fresh pain of losing his own wife.

"One of your group was pregnant?" Madeline asked quietly.

"Yes. My…my wife. She died."

That seemed to raise a collective panic in the group. Rick shook his head. "She wasn't able to deliver the baby naturally." His voice wavered as he spoke. "Another one of our group had to…had to…"

"Perform a C-section?" the older woman supplied.

"Yes. When our son was born, he was delivered by C-section." Rick swiped at his eyes. "Judith is fine now. We have bottles and formula, as well as diapers and clothing."

"So do we." Michael held his wife tighter. "We have an RV about half a mile from here."

Rick nodded. "We'll get it in the morning and bring it here."

"There's no gas…"

"Not a problem. We'll get it here," Rick promised. He waved his hand at their surroundings. "Try to make yourselves comfortable. You're completely safe here, and one of my group will be by with dinner soon."

"Thanks," Michael murmured, his hand stroking his wife's hair. The rest of the group also expressed their thanks.

Rick just nodded and left the cell block, his heart heavy and his mind racing.

God, he missed Lori.

* * *

Carol was still sitting with Daryl when Rick stopped by the cell. He motioned for her to join him. She was reluctant, but the look on his face finally made her move. She slowly slid her arm out from beneath Daryl's and stood up, stretching the cramped muscles in her back. Daryl remained quiet and still as she stepped out of the cell and joined Rick near Daryl's favored perch.

"How's he doing?"

"Hershel thinks he'll be fine. The biggest concern is an infection at this point." Carol crossed her arms over her chest. "Glenn says there's a new group."

"There is," he confirmed. "There were five of them. A married couple, an older woman, an older man and a younger man. The younger man was bit."

Carol couldn't stifle a soft gasp.

"He...decided to opt out. The rest of the group seems fine, but the woman is pregnant. Looks like she'll give birth any day."

She ran a hand through her short hair. It was oily and stringy. "What are you planning to do?" She remembered all too well Randall and the chaos his arrival had caused back on the Greene farm.

"I couldn't turn them away. With the pregnant woman, they wouldn't last out there. We're going to have a discussion as a group, but I think I know how it'll turn out. We can't make them leave, not until she delivers her baby and is fit to travel."

"Then we'll ask them to leave?" Carol wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"We'll take it one day at a time. Right now, they're in their own block. They're safe and secure."

Carol started to reply, but a moan coming from her cell caught her attention. She took a step backward. "I trust you, Rick. If you say they're not going to be dangerous, then I believe you." _But if they even look at Daryl the wrong way, I will kill every single one of them_…

"I appreciate that, Carol. I'll ask Beth to get dinner started."

She appreciated that. Especially since Lori was gone, a lot of the more mundane tasks, such as cooking and laundry, had fallen to her. But with Daryl injured, her mind was far from those tasks. "Thanks." Turning around, she hurried back to the cell she shared with Daryl.

It was troubling to see him so vulnerable, but no man was infallible. At least he had been returned to her alive. She sat down on the floor by his bunk and laid her hand on his arm.

"Shh, Daryl…"

Quietly she began to hum, the lyrics to the tune long forgotten. She would do the same with Sophia when Sophia was sick and Ed would allow Carol to be near her. Sophia would climb into her lap and cling to her, and Carol would stroke her hair and just hum, rocking her back and forth until she eventually fell asleep in her mother's arms.

Tears spilled down her dirty cheeks as she moved her hand to Daryl's head and began stroking his hair lightly.

Soon silence settled over the cell, and it was welcome.

* * *

"Hey, brother. You okay?"

Michael swung his head in the direction of his best friend's voice. Fiona was taking a nap in the cell she and Michael had claimed, and Madeline was close by, finding small ways to occupy herself.

Both men were covered in blood. After Rick had left, they had moved Jesse's body to the farthest part of the block so Fiona wouldn't see it. They had known he wouldn't survive the bite, but losing their friend had been a devastating blow.

"Okay as I can be," Michael finally replied. "Fiona finally fell asleep."

"Good. She needs it. The little tyke is gonna be here anytime now."

"I know, Sam. I know." Michael sighed and rubbed his forehead. He still couldn't believe they had let this happen. Before the world went all to hell, they had always been so careful. A child meant a chance for any number of their enemies to hurt them. A child was a bargaining chip, a devastating one at that. He had always known in the back of his mind that if Fiona had a child, she would do anything in the world to protect it. So would he. But they didn't want to risk it. Now he found himself wishing they had taken more permanent measures while they'd still had a chance. Of course, no one could have predicted this whole mess even happening. Still…

"Try not to worry too much. Maddie knows a thing or two about this, and isn't this supposed to be completely natural? I mean, women were having babies for centuries before doctors and hospitals. They're gonna be fine."

Michael forced a small, uncertain smile.

"Yes, Sam. They will be."

"Michael?"

Fiona's soft voice caught the attention of both men. Sam and Michael exchanged worried looks before they hurried to her side.

"Fi? You okay?" Michael was the first to reach her, and he instinctively laid his hand on her belly.

"How are you feelin', darlin'?" Sam drawled, hovering over Michael's shoulder.

She looked pale and uncomfortable. "I need some water."

Michael could feel the muscles of her abdomen rippling underneath his hand. "Sam…"

"On it." He gave Fiona a reassuring smile and backed out of the cell to search for clean water.

Once they were alone, Michael sat on the edge of the thin mattress Fiona was resting on. "Are you okay, Fiona?" he asked again, his voice filled with worry. Having a baby at their age was already worrying enough. Add to it the scant amounts of fresh water and good, nutritious food for her and the baby, and he was almost terrified. But he had to be strong for her. She was counting on him, and so was their baby.

"I'm just tired," she assured him. Her hand came up and clasped his.

He curled his larger fingers around hers and brought them up to his lips. Then he kissed each of her fingertips. If there was any kind of bright side to all of this, it was how his feelings had been forced to light after the end of the world as they knew it. He had always avoided saying the actual words because he was better with gestures and actions. So was she, for that matter. But in this new, unstable world, sometimes words carried more weight. "I love you, Fi."

"I love you, too, Michael." Her eyes closed, but her grip on his hand remained firm.

Bringing up his free hand, he tenderly caressed her auburn hair. It had always been long, but without access to regular cuts, it was down to her waist again, just as it had been when they had met in Ireland. His fingers slid through the thick and unruly tresses.

"Mm…" A sweet smile curved her lips.

He just grinned, and for that one brief moment, everything was okay in their little world.

* * *

After dinner was cooked, Rick and Beth fixed several plates to take to the new group, as well as more clean water. Rick was already planning how to retrieve their R.V., because he knew it would come in handy later if the group intended to stay with them.

They were all grateful for the food, and as he and Beth headed back to their own group, he made a stop at Carol's cell. Carol had emerged long enough to scarf down a few bites before retreating back to continue her vigil at Daryl's side. He was concerned about her, but she was a grown woman and Hershel did say he would prefer to have someone keeping watch over the wounded man.

Watch shifts were traded, and soon Rick found himself in the watch tower, keeping a careful eye over the prison that was fast becoming their home. Beth and Maggie were watching out for Judy, and he could hear Michonne as she walked along the prison's perimeter. She was the mystery of the newcomers. At first she was hostile and confrontational, but after the events at Woodbury, she had settled down quite a bit. She didn't converse much with anyone, but she was quick on the draw and ready to kill anything posing a threat to their security.

Movement suddenly caught his eye, and he grabbed the binoculars on the floor. Swinging them up to his face, he looked through the lenses. Something was coming through the trees, probably a walker but he couldn't be sure.

Michonne was at the far end of the fence, but suddenly she came into his peripheral vision, her sword drawn. He watched her move, waiting for her to kill what he presumed was a walker.

The last thing he expected was for her to yank the gate open and run toward the stumbling figure.

"Michonne!"

To Be Continued...

A/N: Oooh, who could the intruder be? Is Fiona going into labor? WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? More questions to be answered in chapter four! Thanks for reading, and please review!


	4. Die Trying

A quick update for Christmas! Merry Christmas, everyone!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"Michonne!"

Rick climbed down from the watch tower as fast as he possibly could while juggling his gun. Finally, he hit the ground and took off running after Michonne. But once he reached the gate, he suddenly understood. It wasn't a walker she had gone after.

Michonne put her arm around the woman and started walking her back to the gate. Rick caught a brief glimpse of a filthy face and dirty blond hair.

Andrea…

She looked exhausted and dirty, but she was alive. Rick moved through the gate and helped Michonne get Andrea into the safe confines of the prison.

Once the gate was closed again, Rick looked Andrea over. "You're alive." He was shocked. The last time any of the group had seen her was during the attack on Hershel's farm. She had saved Carol's life before she had disappeared, and they had all just assumed she had been another casualty, along with Patricia and Jimmy. Another loss, another friend to mourn when they could afford time to grieve. Apparently she had not been.

Michonne shoved past Rick and grabbed Andrea's arm. "Thought you were dead."

Rick was surprised Michonne had spoken. She was a woman of very few words. And how did she know Andrea?

Andrea shook her head wearily. "No. I was able to escape Woodbury."

"Woodbury?" Rick echoed, taking a step closer to the women, the look in his eyes incredulous. "You were at Woodbury?"

"Yeah, I was." Andrea looked past them, toward the prison. "Daryl…"

"He's alive," Michonne answered.

"How did you know Daryl was there?" Now Rick's confusion was shifting to surprise and anger. Had she known he was there from the first night and done nothing to help him?

"I saw him just before the fire broke out, but I couldn't get to him." She ran her filthy hands over her hair. "I hoped Merle could get him out."

"He did." Rick still wasn't certain how to feel about all of this. "Daryl is…recovering, and Merle is in a cell block with a new group."

"A new group?"

"Yeah. They found the prison and Carl locked them in one of the blocks we had already cleared out. Two men, a teenage boy and a woman." He motioned for Michonne and Andrea to follow him as he turned around and started back toward the prison.

"What about Glenn, and the girl?" Andrea called softly. "Merle told me about them."

Rick stiffened slightly. "They're fine," he finally answered.

"I'm glad." Andrea's voice was sincere as they entered the prison.

He nodded. They walked through the prison, to the area where most of his group was. He only felt a little hesitancy at bringing Andrea back into the fold, but it was quickly squashed when Carl spotted her and lit up.

"Andrea!"

He hurried over to them and flung his arms around her waist. Andrea smiled and wrapped her arms around the boy.

"Wow, you've gotten tall!" she observed when they finally pulled apart.

"We thought you were dead." Carl swiped at his eyes.

"I know, but I'm fine."

"Andrea?" Carol's uncertain voice rang out from one of the cells. A few moments later, she poked her head out.

Andrea smiled at the older woman. "Hey, Carol."

Carol emerged from the cell and quickly crossed the floor to pull Andrea into a warm hug.

After everyone else had the chance to hug her, Rick spoke up. "Andrea, pick out a cell and make yourself comfortable. We'll talk more later."

She nodded and Michonne followed her into a nearby cell.

Once they were out of sight, Carol turned to Rick. "I can't believe she's alive."

"Neither can I. Apparently she's been at Woodbury."

Carol's expression shifted. "Did she know-"

"About Daryl, Maggie and Glenn? She saw Daryl, but Merle told her about Maggie and Glenn."

"What if she…?"

"There's nothing for her to go back to, if we can believe Merle. We saw the smoke. Everyone at Woodbury has to be dead or a walker."

"Andrea and Merle escaped. So did Daryl."

"If anyone else did escape, there's not enough of them to pose a real threat," he assured her. "We're safe."

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded and squeezed his arm before retreating back to her cell.

Rick heaved a sigh and shook his head as quiet once more enveloped the group.

God, what he would give for a beer.

* * *

Sometime that night, long after everyone else had succumbed to sleep, Michael climbed out of the bed he shared with Fiona and slipped out of their cell. He couldn't sleep, but he didn't want to disturb her. So he wandered around the open area, lost in his own thoughts.

"Michael?"

He spun around at the sound of his mother's voice. She stood a few feet away from him, watching him intently. "Hey, Mom… Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. What about you? What are you doing up so late?"

"Can't sleep."

"Are you worried about Fiona and the baby?"

"How did you know…?"

"Because I know you, sweetheart." Madeline smiled tenderly. "She and the baby are going to be fine, Michael. Women were having babies long before hospitals and doctors, and they are having them now."

He understood what she was saying, but this was _his_ woman and _his_ child. He wanted more than anything to believe they would be fine, but he also knew he had to be realistic. He could lose both of them. Suddenly the urge to hold Fiona in his arms was nearly overwhelming. "I'm going to try to get some sleep, Ma." He kissed his mother's cheek. "Good night."

"Night, Michael."

Returning to his cell, he lowered himself down onto the thin mattress with Fiona. She was curled up on her side, but when he settled in beside her, she shifted in her sleep and burrowed into his side. With her swollen belly pressed into his side, he could feel the baby moving in her womb. He smiled softly and slid his arm around Fiona. Maybe there was a chance he could lose one or both of them in childbirth, and maybe it was a risk they couldn't prevent. But he could protect them from every other risk this horrible world presented them with. He could protect them from the flesh eating monsters outside, and the human ones inside. He would protect them from any possible risk he could see.

"Love you, Fi," he whispered to her sleeping form.

Yes, he would protect her from anything, or he would die trying.

* * *

In the next cell block over, Carol sat beside Daryl's bunk, absently turning her knife over in her hands. He had returned it to her before leaving for Woodbury, and the expression he wore had been one she was unable to decipher. It strongly resembled the look he'd had when he found her in that little closet, barely alive but still able to hold onto him like he was her savior. And he was. He was her savior in every sense of the word. He had rescued her more times than she could count, and he had given her hope where there once was none. He was an angry man, aggressive and violent when needed. He wasn't much for words, preferring to use his fists or his crossbow. He was harder to get close to than any man she had ever known.

She turned her head and watched his sleeping face for a few moments. In sleep, the stress and terror of their new way of life seemed to melt away. Lines on his face seemed to melt away, allowing Carol to see the young boy inside the angry man. Maybe he was hard to get close to, and maybe he shoved her away almost every chance he had. Maybe he was almost impossible to love. But they were just words, and they were humans. They were designed to reach out, to connect on some level, even when they didn't want to. She had to believe she would find a way to reach him, even if it took some time.

What else did she have?

* * *

"Are you awake?"

Maggie couldn't help smiling at the sound of Glenn's slightly slurred voice. They were curled up together on their bunk. She was facing the wall, and he was pressed up against her back with one arm carelessly flung over her. Ever the careful one, he had placed himself between her and any danger that could possibly come through the cell door.

"Yes," she whispered, her hand coming up to run over his arm.

He laid a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. "Love you."

Tears welled up in her eyes. When he had told her Merle was at the prison and Rick had allowed him in, she had been furious. Not because of her own experience at Woodbury, but because of how Glenn had suffered at Merle's hand. He had tried to be brave for her, and she had loved him for it. But Merle had hurt him badly. "Love you, too," she finally replied, her fingers curling around his. It was horribly ironic, this apocalypse. The world had ended, but she had found the man she loved more than anything. If the world hadn't been overrun by walkers, it was likely she never would have met Glenn. She would still have her stepmother, her stepbrother, Otis, Patricia and Jimmy, but not having Glenn… She couldn't imagine it, and she didn't want to.

He slowly pulled his hand away and slid it under her shirt. His fingers caressed her warm flesh, and she shivered.

"Glenn…"

Moving slowly, he pulled her closer to himself, and any more protests were smothered by his lips on hers.

* * *

Judith's cry interrupted the semi-peaceful quiet of the night.

Carol had dozed off while resting against the wall beside Daryl's head, but when she heard the cry, her eyes shot open. They had all learned to identify the baby's different cries, and this one wasn't of hunger or thirst, but of loneliness. She understood the feeling well.

Daryl, even in the depths of unconsciousness, heard the baby's cry as well. He stirred and groaned, his head tossing to the side.

Carol quickly scooted to his side. "Shh, Daryl," she soothed.

One cerulean eye cracked open. "Carol…?" His voice was hoarse from disuse.

She almost cried at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. "Right here, Daryl."

The baby cried out again, and Daryl shifted his hips, wincing. "Judith…"

"She's fine," she quickly assured him. It amazed her, how devoted he was to Rick's little girl. It was shallow, but before Judith was born, Carol would have assumed he had no experience with babies and she would have expected him to avoid her at every turn. But she would have been wrong.

His eye closed again. She watched him, and just when she thought sleep had claimed him again, he startled her by speaking.

"Don'… don' gotta be here…"

She understood what he was trying to say. "I know I don't," she murmured. She grabbed a towel and gently wiped the sweat off his forehead. "But I want to." She fully expected an argument from him, but once again, he surprised her.

He smiled just a little. "Thanks…"

Judith finally stopped crying, and Daryl seemed to relax. Carol watched as he slipped back into sleep, his breathing becoming slow and even.

"Good night, Daryl."

There was no response. Smiling, she dared to lean forward and kissed his forehead. Then she stood up and climbed into the top bunk. She would have preferred him to be in the top bunk, where he was safer from any possible threat offered by the cell's entrance. But with his injuries, the top bunk wasn't a feasible option for him. So she resigned herself to curling up on her side so she could see the cell's entrance and sleeping with one eye open.

There was no way in hell she would allow anything to happen to him.

To Be Continued...


	5. A Memory Now, I Can't Recall

A new chapter! Lots of fun in this one! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Early in the morning, Carol awoke to Hershel entering their cell. She silently climbed down from the top bunk and stood behind the older man as he examined Daryl thoroughly. The young man remained asleep through the examination.

Once he was finished, Carol spoke softly. "How is he doing, Hershel?"

"I'm concerned. His temperature is higher than it should be, and the area around the knife wound is becoming inflamed. He's starting to show signs of an infection."

This troubled Carol deeply. There were no hospitals, no real doctors, and even a slight infection could mean death. "What can we do?"

"We'll keep him warm and comfortable. He'll need plenty of liquids to keep from becoming dehydrated." Hershel slowly stood upright and turned to face Carol. "I'll be in here every hour to check on his condition."

"Oh, Hershel, you don't need to do that. I'll stay with him."

Hershel raised one bushy eyebrow curiously. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Carol crossed her arms over her chest. "He's not going to want anyone else fussing over him." He wasn't even going to like the idea of her fussing over him.

"Unfortunately, he won't have much of a say in the matter. His condition needs to be monitored closely, at least for the next couple of days." He shuffled toward the entrance of the cell. "If his temperature gets too high, we run the risk of a seizure or brain damage. I need you to call me if anything about his condition changes."

"I will, Hershel," she assured him.

The old man nodded as he left the cell, and once more Carol was alone with Daryl. She moved to his side and crouched down next to his head.

In his sleep, Daryl shifted restlessly until her gentle hand came to lie over his forehead. Then he sighed and settled, at least for the moment.

"Hang on, Daryl."

* * *

"Tyrese, we can't stay here."

Sasha's half-scared, half-annoyed voice caught Tyrese's attention as they stood in the cell. "What are you talking about, woman?" he whispered. "We got it good here, at least for now." The boy checked on them regularly, and they were relieved to find out he wasn't alone. There were a few others, including the boy's father. The thought of uprising and taking the prison had occurred to him once or twice, but they were only a group of four now and he had no idea how many were in the kid's group. He couldn't risk any harm coming to one of his own on those odds.

"We're locked in a cell! What if biters get in and the kid's group takes off and leaves us for dead? We'll die locked in here!" Her voice steadily rose in pitch.

"We're not going to die." Getting to his feet, Tyrese pulled Sasha into a rough embrace. "We need to rest and recharge ourselves. We have food, water, shelter here." He rested his head lightly against hers. "I don't think these people are gonna hurt us."

"How can you be sure?"

The truth was, he couldn't be sure. He didn't know those people, and those people didn't know them. But after months on the run, he was grateful for the shelter and food they were being given. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I just am."

* * *

Beth sighed as she sat down on her bunk with Judith. She adored the newborn girl, but Judith was exhausting. She constantly needed to be held or rocked. If she was set down for any reason, the little girl would start screaming loud enough to draw walkers from miles around. She couldn't help wishing Daryl wasn't injured. To the surprise of the entire group, he was the one who had the most patience for the baby. Judith responded to him as well. At least there was one person in the group who could handle her so well.

"Hey there."

Beth frowned as Axel walked into the cell. She didn't like the way he looked at her, or the comments he occasionally made when no one else was around. It made her uncomfortable, even though she was fairly certain he would never actually touch her. Not with their group close enough to come running if she called out for them. "What do you want, Mr. Axel?" she asked politely, snuggling Judith close to her chest.

"Nothin'. Just wanted to say hi." He smiled at her.

"Excuse me." Carl stepped around Axel and sat down on the bunk with Beth, much to Beth's relief. "Hey, Beth. How is Judith?"

"She's fine."

Seemingly defeated, Axel slinked out of the cell.

Once he was gone, Carl gave Beth a grin. "Was he bothering you?"

"Nah." She ducked forward and kissed his cheek. "But thank you."

Carl sputtered, making Beth chuckle as Judith stirred.

"You're…you're welcome."

* * *

"Michael!"

Fiona's anxious voice had Michael leaping to his feet and running back to their cell in a matter of seconds. "Yeah, Fi? What's wrong?" he demanded, his eyes scanning over her body out of habit. "Are you okay?"

"The baby…" She shifted, her expression screaming discomfort. "I think the baby's coming."

For a moment, he couldn't move. He had known about her pregnancy for eight months now. He'd had eight months to prepare himself in every conceivable way. He had known this was coming. The baby would have to be born eventually. And still, he found himself rooted in place, jaw hanging slack and hands gripping the cell wall.

"Michael!" Groaning her exasperation, Fiona let her head fall back. "Sam! Madeline!"

A few moments later, Sam and Madeline came rushing into the cell behind Michael. "What's going on, sister?" Sam questioned as Madeline pushed past her son to get to her daughter-in-law's side.

"I'm in labor, and my idiot husband is just standing there!"

Sam looked at Michael. "Aw, jeez. Hang on, I'll go get their doc." He backed out of the cell, and seconds later Fiona could hear him shouting for the other group's doctor.

"Michael!"

Finally Michael snapped out of the fog and went to Fiona. "Are you sure, Fi?" he whispered, his hand instinctively going to her swollen stomach.

"No, Michael, I have water rushing out of me and agonizing pain in my uterus for some other reason!" the Irish woman snapped. "Of course I'm sure! This baby is coming!"

"The baby's coming," he repeated, stunned. The baby was coming.

Shit.

* * *

"Carol?"

Carol looked up from the pants she was mending. Hershel stood in the cell's entrance, leaning heavily on his crutches. "Hershel? What's wrong? Is everything okay?" She set the pants aside and rose to her feet.

"Everything is fine. The young woman, Fiona, is in labor, and I need your help."

Reflexively, Carol looked at Daryl's sleeping form. "Can we leave him…?"

"Beth and Maggie are going to take turns checking on him. If anything about his condition changes, they'll come get us. But I really need you, Carol."

"Okay." She tucked Daryl's blanket tighter around him and pressed her hand to his forehead. He was still feverish, making her reluctant to leave him. But there was about to be a new baby, and she felt the pull of that as well. So she made sure Daryl was as comfortable as possible. Then she followed Hershel into the next cell block.

The cell Fiona was in was filled with her group. She quickly sized them up as Hershel moved to the pregnant woman's side. This was the first time she was getting to see them, since she had spent almost every waking moment at Daryl's side since he had found his way back to the prison.

"I'm going to need you two to step out," she informed the two men gently.

The woman spoke up. "I'm staying with her."

"But…"

"Come on, brother." The older man wrapped his arm around the younger man's shoulders and pulled him out of the cell.

"Michael," Fiona whimpered from the bed.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," the woman soothed before she turned to Carol. "My name is Madeline. I'm Fiona's mother-in-law. Who are you?"

It seemed she was just as suspicious of Carol as Carol was of her. "I'm Carol. I'll be helping Hershel."

The two women shook hands hesitantly.

"Is this your first child?" Hershel asked Fiona as he helped her into the best position for him to examine her.

"Yes."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Six."

Hershel made a sound of approval. "Did your mother have any problems with any of the deliveries?"

"No. And she never went to a hospital. A midwife helped birth all of us."

"Fantastic." He was quiet for a few minutes as he examined her. "Far as I can tell, you're coming along. Your water has already broken, and you're dilating as you should be." He stood up again carefully, allowing Fiona to make herself comfortable again. "I'd prefer to stay close, in case you think anything is wrong." He patted her arm reassuringly. "But everything looks right. You'll be holding your little one in a few hours."

Fiona groaned and tossed her head to the side. "I need Michael."

"I'll get him, sweetheart." Madeline stuck her head out of the cell and called for her son, who practically flew back into the cell.

"Fiona…" He eagerly went to her side and took her hand.

Hershel motioned to Carol, so she followed him back out of the enclosed area. "She's doing well," Hershel spoke once they were alone again. "But we should stay close, in case anything goes wrong."

A shudder went through Carol at his words. Lori had died after Maggie was forced to remove the baby by way of an unpracticed C-section. What if Fiona had the same problem? She barely knew the group, but the thought of seeing any more death and destruction made Carol sick. This baby would make it. She had to.

"We should make ourselves comfortable, then."

* * *

"What are we going to do with Tyrese and his group?"

Maggie's unexpected question startled Rick. He looked at the young Irish woman. "What do you mean, Maggie?"

"Are we going to give them supplies and let them go? Force them to live in the cell forever?" She was silent for a moment. "Kill them?"

Rick sighed. "I don't know yet, Maggie. But I don't want to kill them."

"Course you don't."

He spun around to retort, but Maggie was walking away from him, her shoulders back and her head high.

"Shit."

* * *

After her short talk with Rick, Maggie found herself seeking out Glenn. She found him in one of the guard towers, staring out over the landscape. She cleared her throat quietly, alerting him to her presence. In this new, violent world, startling someone who was holding a gun could be dangerous, even fatal.

Glenn turned around and offered Maggie a crooked smile. "Hey…" He held his arm out to her.

She eagerly moved into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," was his vague reply.

She nestled closer to him and slid her arm around his waist. She had come so close to watching him die back at Woodbury. Now she hated even letting him out of her sight, despite knowing he was as safe as he could possibly be here. They both were.

So why couldn't she shake the feeling that something horrible was about to happen?

* * *

"Michael!"

Fiona's hoarse voice reverberated through the cell block as she twisted on the thin mattress.

Hershel sat at the end of the mattress, his large hands resting on her knees. "You're doing good, Fiona," he reassured her.

Madeline stood by Fiona's head, holding her hand tight.

"I can see the head. Carol, could you come over here?"

Carol rushed to Hershel's side. "What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to hold her legs in place. You have smaller hands. I need you to reach in and ease the baby's shoulders out."

"Okay." Carol nodded, her hands shaking slightly.

"I need you to push now, Fiona."

Carol watched in amazement as the baby's head slowly emerged. Without being prompted, she reached down and worked with Fiona's body, helping to ease the baby's shoulders out. When she had been delivering Sophia, her doctor had warned her the shoulders were the worst part. Her eyes widened as the rest of the tiny body emerged.

"Good girl, good girl…"

On pure instinct, Carol brought the baby up to her chest and looked for something to wrap it in. The baby began to scream its protest at the sudden loss of warmth and life inside Mommy.

Hershel moved fast and tied off the umbilical cord. "Congratulations, Fiona."

Madeline handed a clean towel to Carol, who quickly wrapped the baby in it. Then Carol laid the baby on Fiona's chest and watched with teary eyes as Fiona sobbed and held her baby close. "I'll go get the men," she murmured, standing up. Her legs were shaky, but she exited the cell and quickly found Michael and Sam pacing around the floor.

At the sight of Carol, Michael came to a stop. "How is she?" he demanded.

Carol smiled wearily. "They're both fine. You can go-"

He moved past her before she could complete the sentence. Sam gave her a big smile.

"He's been in love with Fiona for the past fifteen years. If something had happened to them…" His voice trailed off.

"But it didn't," Carol quickly reassured him. "They're both exhausted and healthy."

Sam nodded and squeezed her shoulder as he walked by. "Thanks for the help, Carol."

"I was happy to." Now she would be happy to get back to Daryl.

He gave her a grin and ducked into Fiona's cell.

Alone, Carol let out a deep breath and absently wiped her hands against her pants. She would have to clean up before she could go back to Daryl…

"Carol!"

Carol jerked her head in the direction of Beth's worried voice. "What happened?" she demanded.

Beth's eyes were wide and almost fearful, and her next words sent Carol's world spinning off its axis once more.

"It's Daryl."

To Be Continued...

A/N: Bwhahaha. And by the way, I've been twitter-stalking Norman Reedus, and let's just say, the man made my year! He is so awesome! For those of you interested, you can go to my profile and find my twitter information, as well as my facebook info. Feel free to follow me while I dream up new ways to torment Daryl! Thanks for reading, and please review!


	6. Broken Hallelujah

So this chapter gets a bit wild. The name of Michael and Fiona's baby is revealed, as well as Daryl's fate. Let's just say he's not a well man. Bwhahaha. And Caryl fans will hopefully rejoice with this chapter. Enjoy, everyone!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Carol was racing back to her cell before Beth could move or even get another word out. Her heart was in overdrive and her palms were already slick with sweat. What was wrong with Daryl? Would he be okay?

Her surroundings were a blur until she skidded to a stop in front of her cell. Maggie was standing just outside the cell's entrance, her mouth twisted in a worried frown. When she noticed Carol, she reached out.

"Carol…"

Carol sidestepped the touch. "What happened? Is Daryl okay?"

Glenn came out of the cell and rested one hand on the small of Maggie's back as he stood beside her. "He's gone, Carol."

Carol's knees buckled and her vision swam. "Gone?" she finally squeaked out. Daryl was…dead? She had only left him for a couple of hours. _Oh, God, I never should have left him_… He had died, alone and in pain, in a cell with no one to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Her stomach threatened to rebel as another thought came to mind. He was going to turn. Someone would have to put him down before he became one of those things. They would have to bury him close to T-Dog and Lori, next to her own empty grave.

She suddenly became aware of Glenn shaking her and calling her name. "What?"

"He's not dead," Glenn repeated loudly. "Do you hear me, Carol? He's not _dead_."

"He's not?" Carol echoed dazedly. He wasn't dead?

"No. But we can't find him."

Carol suddenly shoved past Maggie and Glenn, entering her cell. The mattress Daryl had occupied just a few hours ago was empty; the sheets and blanket hopelessly tangled and his crossbow lying abandoned on the floor. Vaguely she heard Glenn and Maggie speaking, but she didn't understand what they were saying. All she could think about was Daryl. He was wounded and somehow he had gotten up and walked out of the cell. Why hadn't someone noticed? Wasn't someone supposed to be keeping an eye on him while she and Hershel were gone? The compassionate side of her said he was unconscious; they didn't have to watch him sleep. But the other side, the woman coming to terms with the fact she was in love with the wounded man who was supposed to be sleeping, was enraged.

Grabbing Daryl's crossbow, she savored the weight of it in her hands. Then she turned around. Maggie and Glenn were watching her, their concern written all over their faces.

"What are you doing, Carol?" Glenn questioned.

Her answer was simple. "I'm going to find Daryl."

"I'll go with you…"

"No." The growl that tore from her throat made Glenn take a step back. "I'll find him."

"You can't go by yourself-"

"Yes, I can." She could, and she would. She would find Daryl herself. He couldn't have gotten far, not with the injuries he had. He was probably still within the prison, or at least close by. She doubted he could have made it to the gates. But if he had…

Carol suddenly shook her head and gripped his crossbow tighter. She moved around Maggie and Glenn and left the cell, ignoring them as they called out to her.

She had to find Daryl.

* * *

Michael was in awe as he sat beside Fiona, his arm tucked firmly around her. Their baby was cradled in the crook of Fiona's right arm. Sam and Madeline had excused themselves and slipped out of the cell, no doubt to give the new parents time to properly welcome their baby. He looked at his wife. She was exhausted and her hair was still damp and plastered to her head, but he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. He kissed her forehead lovingly. "You're amazing, Fi."

"And you're a liar." But Fiona rested her head on his chest.

"Maybe, but you are amazing." His gaze drifted down to their baby. "And you're amazing, too…"

"Mm…"

Michael ran a finger along the baby's cheek. "We still haven't named her." They both knew the real reason why they hadn't named her: neither of them had expected Fiona to carry her to term. But by some miracle, she had, and now they had a healthy little daughter.

"Evelyn," Fiona said quietly.

Michael let the name roll around in his mind for a moment. Evelyn. Evelyn Westen. "I like it," he declared as the baby opened her eyes and yawned. "Evelyn Claire Westen."

Fiona looked up at him with watery eyes. "Evelyn Michelle Claire," she corrected.

"Fi, we're going to give the girl a complex," Michael complained, but the double meaning of the second name touched him deeply.

"Her name is Evelyn Michelle Claire Westen," she said with finality.

"There's no arguing with you." He sighed. "Evelyn Michelle Claire Westen it is."

Fiona smiled triumphantly and cuddled their daughter closer.

He took in the way she held their daughter so lovingly. He had never planned to have children or a family of his own, but now that Evelyn was here, he couldn't imagine their life without her. This tiny baby girl, barely a few hours old, had opened doors in his heart he hadn't even known were there and made him feel things he wasn't sure he was capable of feeling. For this one brief, happy moment, there were no walkers. There was no apocalypse, no brutality, no enemies. No pain, no loss. It was just the three of them in their own little corner of the world. For that one, brief moment, nothing else mattered.

They were a family.

* * *

The crossbow was heavy in Carol's hands as she searched the prison for Daryl. The first place she went was Merle's cell. The older Dixon was sitting on the ground, muttering to himself as Carol quietly approached him. When he realized he wasn't alone, he looked up and gave Carol an evil smile.

"Well, if it isn't the Queen Bitch herself. Come to pay ol' Merle a visit?" he drawled, getting to his feet unsteadily.

"Have you seen Daryl?" Her tone was dangerous, but Merle didn't have the sense to recognize it.

"Daryl?" Merle scratched the back of his head with his stump. "Whaddya mean, have I seen him? Ya'll ain' let me see him since I got here!"

She moved closer, Daryl's crossbow clutched tightly in her hands.

Merle watched her curiously, a shit-eating grin slowly spreading across his face. "Whassa matter, yer majesty? Didya lose my brother?"

Scowling, Carol turned around to leave. She should have known better than to come here. Daryl was wandering around, most likely out of his mind with a fever. He wouldn't have come here. But where would he have gone? Was he looking for something or someone?

"Hey! Hey!" Merle's voice was grating against her nerves. "Ya make sure my brother is okay, ya hear me, bitch?"

It took every ounce of willpower Carol had to not turn around and put an arrow between Merle Dixon's eyes. She continued to walk, ignoring the venomous words Merle continued to spew. She would find Daryl without anyone's help. He was counting on her to.

She did a quick but thorough search of the prison before she headed outside, into the sunlight. Her eyes went to the fence, hoping for some indication of Daryl. Usually when anyone walked through the gate, any walkers around would be drawn to the sound. But as far as she could see, there were no walkers, nor could she smell the rotting flesh indicative of their presence. She wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad one. If the gate was any indication, Daryl had been nowhere near it, which meant he was somewhere close by, or he was still inside the prison somewhere.

"Daryl?" she called out tentatively. Her hands slowly lowered the crossbow.

Just when she had convinced herself he had to be inside, a soft groan caught her attention. At first she thought it was a walker that had managed to find a way through a weak spot and into the prison yard confines. But as she headed toward the sound, she realized the groan sounded very familiar. Then she saw it.

Lying against the prison wall was Daryl.

Carol laid the crossbow in the grass and raced to Daryl's side, yelling his name and not giving a damn if she drew the attention of every walker for miles. It felt like an eternity, but finally she made it to him. Dropping to her knees beside him, she reached out and ran her slender hands over his body. "Are you bit?" she demanded, her voice quivering.

He groaned again, his head rolling to the side.

She couldn't find a bite or scratch on him, but the heat radiating from his body nearly sent her into a panic. "Daryl, what were you thinking?" she whispered, brushing his damp hair away from his eyes.

He finally looked at her, but his eyes were red and swollen. "Lookin' for Carol…"

Those three words floored her. He was looking for her? "You were?"

He grunted and nodded slightly. "Couldn' fin' her…"

"Daryl, I'm right here." She reached down and clasped his hand in hers. "I'm here."

He didn't respond, and she tried another tactic.

"Carol's inside, Daryl. She's waiting for you. We just have to get you back inside."

This seemed to pique his interest. Slowly he started to sit upright.

She reached out and grasped his arms, helping him slowly to his feet. He leaned heavily against her, and she slid her arm around his waist and pulled his arm over her shoulder.

The trek back to the safety of her cell was a long and tedious one. Once they had gotten inside, Rick appeared, his trademark inquisitive expression firmly in place on his haggard face.

"Can I help?" he asked softly, extending a hand.

Daryl, whose head had been down, suddenly jerked up and gave Rick a scathing look. "Don' touch me," he hissed, startling the deputy.

Rick looked to Carol, who shook her head.

"I'll take care of him."

Nodding, Rick backed away, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender.

The further away Rick got, the more Daryl relaxed. His head lolled against Carol's shoulder, but he somehow remained on his feet.

The cell was just a few feet away now. Carol tightened her grip on Daryl and continued forward, guiding him. She wasn't very strong, but he was relying on her to bring him to safety, just as he had done for her countless times before. So she pushed on until they were back inside her cell. He was rapidly losing consciousness as she guided him down onto the bottom bunk and pulled a blanket over his shivering body. "Now stay here," she murmured firmly as she tucked a thin pillow under his head. "You can't be wandering away like that." He was finally safe again, and anger was beginning to creep back into her bones. But it was an anger mixed with concern and gratitude. Her voice dropped down to a whisper. "I couldn't handle it if something happened to you."

His eyes flickered open and his gaze skittered all over the place, not quite able to focus. "Need ta…talk ta Carol…" His speech was slurred but imploring.

"Daryl." Leaning closer to him, she took his bruised face in her hands. It never occurred to her he might react badly to the tender touch. "Daryl, it's me, Carol. I'm right here." His skin was still so hot to the touch. She wanted to check the wound in his side, but she wasn't sure how he would react in his current state of mind, so she settled for promising to check as soon as he fell asleep again. "What do you need to tell me?"

Finally his gaze settled on her, and her heart leapt into her throat.

"You left…" He pressed his cheek into her hand. "Couldn'…couldn' fin' ya…"

"I'm sorry," she soothed, guilt plucking at the strings of her heart. "I had to help Hershel. I didn't think I would be gone so long. But I was just in the next cell block over." Her thumb ran tenderly over his heated skin. "I didn't leave for good."

"Already…already lost everyone else…" He seemed to struggle with his words. "Can' lose ya too…"

"You're not going to lose me, Daryl." Her voice was firm. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Carol?"

She looked up to see Hershel standing in the entrance of the cell. He had changed his bloody clothing and now held a clean shirt for her as well. Maggie must have told him to give it to her. "Yes, Hershel?"

"Beth and Maggie told me what happened. He can't afford any more of those episodes."

"I know he can't." She never should have left him in the first place. He wouldn't have gotten up to look for her if she had been where she was supposed to be: by his side.

Hershel hobbled into the cell, handing Carol the shirt he'd held. Carol absently looked down at the shirt she was currently wearing. It was stained with blood, nothing particularly new.

"I should check him over, see if he's caused any more damage."

Carol looked at Daryl, whose eyes were closed. "Could you step out for a moment, Hershel? I'd like to change my shirt."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he finally nodded and stepped out of the cell.

Once he was gone, Carol stood up and quickly peeled her bloody shirt off, tossing it aside. Then she pulled the clean one on, all the while keeping her back to the bars of the cell. Daryl didn't make a noise as she changed and finally returned to her seat on his mattress. "Okay, Hershel."

The old man hobbled back into the cell and prepared to check Daryl's wounds. But the moment his hand touched the younger man, Daryl froze. His eyes flew open and a growl tore from his throat.

Hershel looked at Carol warily. "I should probably ask Rick to come in here…"

"No." Remembering how Daryl had acted the last time Hershel mentioned bringing Rick in, Carol stepped up.

Hershel regarded her with a curious look.

Easing up to his head, Carol began speaking to Daryl again in a low, sweet voice. "Daryl, Hershel has to check your side. I need you to let him, okay?"

Daryl remained silent, but his piercing gaze was on the old man.

"I'm going to stay right here. In fact…" She continued to speak, but her voice dropped to a whisper so only Daryl could hear her. Her hands slid under his head, allowing Carol to ease herself between his head and the pillow. She pressed her back against the wall and reclined her body slightly, settling Daryl's head and shoulders in her lap. It was an intimate position, but it earned no protest from the wounded man she was vowed to protect. Once he was comfortable, Carol nodded at Hershel. "Go ahead." She draped her left arm gently over Daryl's upper chest.

With a shake of his head, Hershel rolled Daryl's shirt up and began probing the wound.

Daryl hissed at the pain, but remained still in Carol's lap.

By the time Hershel was finally finished, Daryl had lapsed back into unconsciousness. He looked at Carol, his mouth drawn in a tight line of disapproval.

"The knife wound is infected. He has a fever, and he pushed himself too hard by leaving this cell so soon."

"What can we do?"

"Not much we can do, other than what I told you before. We keep him here, give him plenty of water and keep him warm. I'll talk to Rick about organizing a run for some better medicine." He groaned as he pushed himself off of the thin mattress. "But I'm serious, Carol. There's only so much I can do for him when he's actually following the orders I give. If he gets out of this bed again before he's ready, I'm afraid the consequences will be very serious."

Carol nodded, reflexively tightening her grip on Daryl as Hershel left the cell. She heard what Hershel hadn't said, and she was even more worried, if it was at all possible. If she was right there with Daryl, he wasn't likely to make another attempt to leave. If he was to be believed, he had only left the first time because he was searching for her. It wasn't exactly a feasible idea, to stay with him every minute of the day until he was back on his feet, but what other choice was there? The group as a whole needed him much more than they ever needed her. If it meant getting Daryl back on his feet again, the group would be fine without her for a couple of days. Rick seemed comfortable enough with Michael's group as well as Tyreese's. Worst case scenario, he would choose whomever he trusted the most of those two groups to pitch in and help out, especially if they were planning another run into the nearest viable town for medicine and supplies the group desperately needed.

She rested her right hand on Daryl's forehead, wincing at the heat his skin radiated. He didn't even stir at the touch. She had never known him to be a heavy sleeper, so she was becoming more and more concerned.

Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the cement wall. He was going to be okay. He would recover soon, and they would be able to talk about everything. Or she would talk and he would listen and occasionally grunt, just like he always did. She was comforted by the thought. This new Daryl didn't sit well with her. Her Daryl never would have let her hold him like this. He would have snapped at her and ignored her concern in favor of stalking off to lick his own wounds. It was just the way he was, for better or worse, and Carol didn't want him any other way.

"Get better, Daryl." Her fingers lightly swept over his hot and sticky skin. "Please, just get better."

* * *

Rick was playing with his daughter when Hershel approached him. The old man's expression was troubling. Rick handed Judith off to Carl and stood up. "Hershel. What's on your mind?"

"Daryl."

Of course. "How is he doing?"

"Not well, Rick. His little stunt really didn't do him any favors." Hershel's expression reflected both worry and some anger. "If we aren't able to find some antibiotics, and soon, I don't think he'll make it."

Rick scrubbed his hand roughly over his face. "I'll organize a trip." He was worried about it, especially with Daryl and Glenn out of commission, but now they had Andrea and Michonne.

"I know you need time, but I'm afraid Daryl doesn't have a lot of it."

"We'll get it done. What do you need?"

* * *

Carol must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she opened her eyes, Maggie was standing in front of her with a bowl of something clutched in her hands. "Maggie?" Carol yawned and slid her tingling arm out from under Daryl's head. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," the young woman quickly assured her. "I just brought you some dinner. Dad says you're not going to leave Daryl for a while."

"Mm, he's right." She accepted the bowl with a kind smile. "Thank you."

Maggie looked Daryl over, her worry clear in her eyes. "Dad says he'll be okay as long as he stays put for a few days."

"He will." Carol peered down into the bowl. It was some kind of soup, and when she lifted it to her lips, she was relieved to find she could eat it without any utensils. One hand stayed protectively on Daryl's chest. "I'm going to stay in here with him until…"

"Til he's better?" Maggie offered.

"That's the idea."

"If you need anything, you can holler for me. Rick's organizing a trip into town, but Glenn really can't go so I'm going to stay here and keep an eye on things."

Carol was impressed. The young woman had really grown up in the nine months they had been on the run. Then again, there wasn't much room for children to be children in this cruel new world. It was evident the most in Carl, and Carol often worried Judith wouldn't have a childhood at all. "Thank you, Maggie. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I'll come back later for your bowl." Maggie stepped back out of the cell, leaving Carol alone with Daryl once more.

Carol nursed her soup in silence. Once the bowl was empty, she retrieved a bottle of water and opened it. Then she woke Daryl up and brought the bottle up to his mouth, coaxing him into swallowing a few sips before he fell asleep again.

Now she was wide awake, but Daryl was still curled up in her lap, resting uneasily. Running her fingers through his damp hair, she began to speak softly, hoping her words would offer him some measure of comfort.

"Once upon a time, in a far away land…"

* * *

After a long discussion, it was decided that Rick, Michonne, Axel and Andrea would go on the trip to find the medical supplies Hershel needed. Maggie elected to stay behind with Glenn, who wasn't ready for such a task. She would watch the outside while Hershel, Carl and Glenn took care of things inside.

Then there was the question of what would happen if Maggie couldn't handle something outside? She had bristled at the implication, but it was a fact. And Rick couldn't afford to let one of his stay behind, which was why he was currently heading toward the cell block next to theirs. It was a horrible thought, but the person with the most to lose was Michael Westen. He and his group had survived on their own for the last nine months, so they had to be proficient with weapons. Of all of the new members, Rick was the least opposed to one of Westen's group being loose amongst the members of his own group.

He reached the cell block and found Sam and Madeline talking softly in the open area. He approached them, noticing the way Sam stood slightly in front of Madeline, an act of protection. "Sam, could I speak with you and Michael?" he requested.

Sam looked at Madeline.

"I'll get him," Madeline offered, ducking into one of the cells. Michael emerged from the cell a moment later, alone.

"Deputy Grimes. My mother said you needed to speak with Sam and I?"

Rick found himself wondering about the group's past. Michael spoke with only a hint of an accent, and it wasn't southern. How far had they travelled before landing in front of the prison? "Yes, I do. One of our group is injured, and we need to make a run for supplies. The problem is, we're a little shorthanded at the moment."

This seemed to intrigue the men. "We'd be happy to help. What do you need?"

"I need one of you to come to our cell block, just in case anything goes wrong. We have one of ours outside to keep watch, but we need an extra set of hands on the inside, just as a precaution."

Sam looked at Michael. "You should stay with Fi and Evee. I can go."

"Good." Rick rubbed the back of his neck and took a step closer to the men. "I don't give out many chances like this. If anything happens while I'm gone because I let one of yours out…" He let the threat go unfinished, but his expression said it all.

"Don't worry, Deputy." Michael flashed him a charming smile, then hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm going to let Fi know what's going on."

Rick nodded, hoping he hadn't made a huge mistake in trusting the new group.

It was a mistake he couldn't afford to make.

* * *

Early the next morning, the group was ready. Rick took time to properly introduce Sam to his people. He had been hesitant to do so, but it was better than leaving them with someone whose name they didn't even know. Once Sam had been introduced, Rick took a few minutes to say goodbye to his children. He didn't like acting as though this would be the last time he saw them, but it was a reality he couldn't deny. At least this way, the last words he said to them was how much he loved them.

Finally they were ready, and Maggie took her place in the guard tower as the group headed through the gate and disappeared into the distance.

* * *

Carol had just finished her breakfast when an unfamiliar head popped into the cell. On instinct, she held Daryl tighter with one arm and reached for her knife with her free hand.

"Hi, you're Carol, right?"

"Yes," Carol replied hesitantly.

"The name's Sam Axe." He looked like he wanted to offer her his hand to shake, but she was glad he didn't.

Vaguely Carol recognized his name and face. "Weren't you with the pregnant lady?"

"Yeah. Her name's Fiona."

His easy smile put her somewhat at ease, but she was still ready to protect the man in her lap. She had spent the entire night sleeping upright, something which wasn't entirely foreign to her. Daryl hadn't regained consciousness, but she was able to coax him into drinking a little water every few hours. "Right. Are you the one Rick picked to help us?"

"You got it, sweetheart." He gave her a kindly smile. "Seems Rick forgot to introduce us, so I thought I'd take it upon myself to say hello."

"I…appreciate it."

Sam's eyes went to Daryl's prone form. "What's your boyfriend's name?"

"He's not my boyfriend, but his name is Daryl."

"Ah. He's the one who got banged up, right?"

Carol snorted. "Something like that."

Hershel called out Sam's name, and he winked at her. "Looks like duty calls. Just give a shout if you need anything, sweetheart."

"Yeah." She waited until Sam was gone before she allowed herself to relax fully. She understood Rick's desire to have enough hands available to keep the group safe, but she was beginning to question his choice.

Daryl groaned softly, bringing her out of her thoughts. She shushed him and put her arm back around him again. She was unsettled, and he seemed to be picking up on it even in his unconscious state. Without thinking, she started back into the story she had begun the previous night. She couldn't remember all of the details to the story which had been one of her favorites in school, but she told it as best as she could.

"He raised his hand and she flinched, preparing for the inevitable blow. 'Next time, princess, my hand flies.'"

To Be Continued...

A/N: Cyber cookies to anyone who can guess what story Carol is retelling to Daryl. And today is also Norman Reedus' birthday, so happy birthday, Norman! :D Thanks for reading, and please review!


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